


Flooded

by mabonwitch



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Apocalypse, Attempted bullying, Aziraphale Has a Penis (Good Omens), Confident Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crisis of Faith, Crowley Has A Vulva (Good Omens), Crowley Has a Penis (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Kids (Good Omens), Don't Post To Another Site, Don't copy to another site, Explicit Consent, F/M, Fat Shaming, Gabriel is bad at people, He/Him Pronouns For Aziraphale (Good Omens), Heaven is Terrible (Good Omens), M/M, Nonbinary Character, Outdoor Sex, Protective Aziraphale (Good Omens), Protective Crowley, Quote: We're On Our Own Side (Good Omens), Rough Sex, Scene: Flood in Mesopotamia 3004 BC (Good Omens), The Arrangement (Good Omens), They/Them Pronouns for Crowley (Good Omens), Wings, brief mention of biblical characters, brief mention of underage sexuality, child endangerment, genderqueer author, theological discussions, wings as an errogenous zone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-17
Updated: 2020-08-14
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:27:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25341691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mabonwitch/pseuds/mabonwitch
Summary: Wherein Aziraphale is radicalized by the Flood and it leads to a rather different Arrangement.or5000 years of being on their own side
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 18
Kudos: 162





	1. Flooded with Despair

**Author's Note:**

> This story is complete! Chapter updates at least weekly.
> 
> If you want to skip the section in Chapter 1 where Aziraphale and Crowley realize some of their charges are probably having sex, stop reading at "Then there was the matter of privacy" and pick up again at "Crawly cleared their throat."

The Demon Crawly had a very different reaction to the first murder than Aziraphale expected. Or, well. He had met Crawly, of course, had sheltered him, and had observed for himself hints of their care. Heaven painted demons as being all the same, all vile and full of hatred. Aziraphale found that he liked gathering knowledge, and observed the difference between Heaven's stance and Crawly's existence with keen interest.

The look of shock and horror on Crawly's face when Cain slew Abel was more evidence against all demons being the same. Of course, then they had both had to flee, hiding on either side of the scene as it was flooded with Divine power. Aziraphale couldn't hear what God said then*, so they spent the time studying Crawly.

* That was private, Aziraphale.

Crawly followed Cain, later. Aziraphale would have described the tilt of their mouth as compassionate. He supposed Crawly was more familiar with being cast out. His heart lurched unpleasantly at the thought. 

The following centuries brought more examples. They crossed paths every few decades, and Aziraphale never found Crawly engaged in true evil. Yes, they certainly tempted humans. A man who hit his wife would be tempted to immoderate rage and cast out. The poor were tempted to steal from the rich. The young were tempted into questioning. 

“There's no point if it's not a choice,” Crawly said once.

Aziraphale frowned. “Shouldn't we be encouraging their better natures, though? Help them to do good?” By then, he thought of himself and Crawly as in a similar boat: agents beyond human understanding posted to Earth.

Crawly merely raised an eyebrow. “What is good, angel?”

It was a difficult question. Aziraphale thought of it, on and off, over the centuries. Heaven issued mandates. Aziraphale went where he was ordered, but he wondered: is this right? God had not spoken to him since Eden. Slowly, he became convinced that God had not spoken to anyone, first in decades, then centuries. At least, no one in Heaven.

Then came the Flood.

God clearly had spoken to Noah. There was no other explanation for the ridiculous boat in the dry lands where he lived. Aziraphale had checked himself, and Noah was not insane. Word came down from Heaven: Noah was right. There would be a flood, a great flood, to wash away the sins of humanity. Gabriel was gleeful.

“What?” Crawly said. “But, the children. She can't do this to the children!”

“I don't know,” Aziraphale said. It began to rain. He wrung his hands. “I'm not in charge of policy.”

Crawly met his eyes for a long, horrified, moment. “Right,” they said, and left. 

Aziraphale sat down in the street. He stared at the people running this way and that. He sat, heart racing in fear and then slowing in grief, until he was sitting in an inch of water.

“Right,” he said, standing up. “Fuck this.”*

* God laughed.

He strode to the nearest house and snapped it down, transforming it into a small boat. The family inside stared. “If you wish your children to survive,” Aziraphale said, “you will give them to me.” He let a bit of his Heavenly light creep out. 

An elderly woman rallied first. “Sara,” she said, “go. Take your brothers with you.”

Aziraphale softened. “I am sorry, mother. I would save you all if I could.”

She looked back standing tall and proud. She ignored the wails of her daughter and son-in-law. “The children are the future. I would die for them.” With a final sharp gesture, she ordered once more, “Go!”

A girl in her early teens stepped into the boat, her younger brothers clinging to her hands. Aziraphale used his strength to haul the boat along until he came to the next house with children. And the next. In all, he gathered two score of boats, wading chest deep and keeping them together by miracle. He took to the sky and began guiding them away from Noah.

Aziraphale felt Crawly's scream in his soul. He cast a worried look at his humans before doing his best to miracle them safe and going to Crawly's side. 

He shouldn't be surprised. Crawly had done much the same as Aziraphale, but their boats were loaded, packed tightly with five or six children per boat. They were snapping their fingers fruitlessly at a bit of roof, chin barely above the water. They had clearly burned through their entire supply of energy. 

“Crawly,” Aziraphale called.

Crawly ignored him, muttering and snapping their fingers again.

“Crawly!” Aziraphale landed. He put a hand on Crawly's shoulder. “Enough, my dear.”

Crawly whirled, eyes feverish. “I've got to-”

“You're out. I'm sorry, we can't save them all.” The water rose another inch. Aziraphale leaped back into the air, taking Crawly with him. 

Crawly struggled. “I can fly on my own.”

Aziraphale didn't release him. “I think we had better trade off, don't you? A lot of humans to keep alive. You rest now, then I'll rest later.”

Crawly ceased twisting around. “I- yeah?” There was such cautious hope there. Aziraphale's heart ached. “S'pose.”

They went quiet. Aziraphale pulled forward with steady wing beats, miracling the boats to follow in his wake. It would take several hours for his fleet and Crawly's to meet. After some time, he felt Crawly drop off to sleep in his arms.

“Mother,” Aziraphale said quietly, “I do not know if this is what You intended. But I can't just stand aside when they need help. You told me to protect and aid the humans, and I will do so.”*

* God breathed a sigh of relief. She had been worried for a moment there that Aziraphale and Crawly wouldn't do their part. Those who survived on Noah's ark were not nearly enough for a stable breeding population. And while She had sworn off speaking directly to angels, She did send a wave of Her approval to Aziraphale.

Aziraphale felt a surge of renewed purpose. Whatever came next, he was more certain than ever that he was doing the right thing. His flight felt easier even as the rains came down. He cradled Crawly protectively close, casting his gaze over the children they had saved. He could sense his own fleet of boats bobbing far off. 

Crawly woke when Aziraphale came to a hover. There was a cry of relief from below, as they were spotted. 

“Hnng, angel? Waa- oh.”

Aziraphale determinedly didn't look at Crawly as his own little collection of humans came into view. He wasn't sure he could handle whatever reaction was happening. 

“We're here,” Aziraphale said. 

“Yeah,” Crawly replied, quieter, “I can see that. Right, let me down now.” There was a rustle of wings, and two beings disentangled. Aziraphale wondered if demons carried some bit of Hell's fire with them. He was cold without Crawly next to him.

“So!” Crawly said, with a bright clap of their hands. They set down in a boat near the middle, shaking their wings off and tucking them away. “Welcome to Waterworld.”

A girl in their boat smiled uncertainly at him. Crawly smiled back. “Right, who's ready for dinner!” That got a much stronger response. “First one's on me,” they said. “Hands out, you lot.”

Aziraphale got a sense of what they intended a second before they did it. With a tsk, he hastily snapped everyone's hands clean. Warm, cooked meat appeared in the hands of everyone old enough to understand the instructions. They would have to do something about the babes, Aziraphale supposed. And also plates. Bowls? He circled while he thought, only vaguely aware of Crawly pattering on. He'd never heard of a demon using their ability to seduce humans to make them comfortable before.

“Oi, angel!” Aziraphale paused near Crawly's boat. Crawly snorted, head craned back to look at him. “You can't hover all night.”

Oh, yes, rather. He supposed he ought to come down. Only it was a bit crowded. He loved humans, but he wasn't sure he fancied being in this close of quarters. Crawly must have sensed his hesitance. There was some indistinct muttering, then a few humans were shifted around, and suddenly there was a boat with just Crawly in it. 

“Get down here.”

With a sigh, Aziraphale landed. 

“I'm up now, angel,” Crawly said, their voice uncommonly gentle. “You can go ahead and rest.”

Aziraphale blinked. “Ah, I don't really sleep, but I can cease using new miracles?”

Crawly nodded. “We had better sort out supplies before they've all gone bad.” They peered down into the murky waters. “Hn.” With a snap, a small collection of pots and pans clattered into their boat. Another snap brought rope, then sailcloth. Beginning to see a pattern, Aziraphale snapped up a pile of sheep's wool* and a stack of bowls.

* God rolled Her eyes and moved some sheep around. It was a good idea, but had he honestly not noticed the lack of sheep in the desert?

“This is your idea of resting?” Crawly said.

Aziraphale shifted. “I still have a few miracles in me. I merely think we had best get them settled.”

Crawly rolled their eyes again, but didn't comment further. Between them, the boats were soon lashed to each other, with sailcloth wrapped over the tops to keep out the rain. The sheep's wool was miracled into blankets, which were in turn distributed to each boat. Aziraphale eased back on the amount of energy he had tied to each of those functions. There was a small lurch as rope took over the job of holding them all together. 

Mostly certain their charges would survive until morning, Aziraphale settled back. Crawly patiently boiled water, taking a bowl to each boat by hand. Clever Crawly, remembering the humans needed water. Aziraphale had quite forgotten, what with the way the sky was sleeting down around them. He hoped they hadn't missed anything else, because the few supplies they had rescued were rapidly receding further out of the reach of their powers. 

Crawly returned when the sliver of the crescent moon was setting.* They wore a grimace. “Some of them drank the flood water. They'll probably get sick. All sorts of things you shouldn't drink in there. Also, they're pissing off the sides of the boats and none too happy about it.”

Aziraphale sighed. “I don't think we can do much about that.” He hesitated. “Well, I suppose we could manage something, but it rather seems like the sort of thing they can handle on their own.”

Crawly shrugged. “We need a plan for the babes.”

Aziraphale fluttered. “Oh, dear. How many?”

Crawly's lips pressed into a thin line. “Just three. I got goat's milk for tonight.” They grimaced. Aziraphale shuddered in sympathy. That couldn't have been pleasant, miracling milk out of drowned animals. “I'd do it myself,” they said, gesturing down at their chest, “but I don't think devil's milk would be any good for them.”

Aziraphale blinked, suddenly adrift in images of what Crawly might look like with a female form. Lovely, he should think. “Ah.” He cleared his throat. “I suppose I could...?”

Crawly's lips quirked up. Aziraphale stiffened. He must have said something stupid again. “Don't think angel's milk would do the trick either. Unless we're aiming for immortals or summat?”

“I think not,” Aziraphale said. “That usually ends badly. But then what are we to do?”

Crawly narrowed their eyes, gazing out at the boats. “There's two girls,” they murmured, “old enough, with the right miracle...”

“Oh. You think we could just speed things up a bit?”

“If they agreed,” Crawly said. They slanted a smile at Aziraphale. “Let me handle it.”

Aziraphale frowned. “I should surely do my share. I can speak to one of them.”

Crawly's smile widened. “You want to ask a pubescent girl if you can play with her reproductive system? Pretty sure there's no way you can phrase that without using the word “breasts” at least once.”

“Er.” Perhaps Aziraphale hadn't properly thought this through.

Crawly laughed softly. It sounded affectionate, for all that it was clearly aimed at him. “I've got it, angel. Promise, no funny business.” They blew out a sharp breath. “Not like Hell would be too happy with me, right now. Not in the saving business, us.”

Aziraphale swallowed heavily. “Nor Heaven, I. They appear to be much more selectively in the saving business than I supposed.”

There was a fraught pause. “They?”

Aziraphale felt his expression harden. “I can't fall in line with Heaven after this, Crawly.”

Crawly reached over and, with great care, rested their fingers lightly on Aziraphale's wrist. “Our own side, then.”

Aziraphale turned his hand over and caught the demon's in his own.* “I should like that.”

* God was pleased. Perhaps that particular project wouldn't take as long as She had thought.

It wasn't all simple from there, of course. Crawly handled the milk situation as well as they had claimed they could, but there were dozens of little disagreements to untangle. Crawly liked to tell stories to entertain the children. Aziraphale could hardly protest their portrayal of Gabriel, but he wasn't at all certain he liked the moral of some stories. 

“There's not a moral, angel.” Crawly said, “that's the whole point!”

“I rather think, my dear,” Aziraphale responded, “that a moral-less story is a moral in and of itself. You might try for compassion, or at least wonder about the world.”

“And you might try for helping each other or standing up against injustice,” Crawly said. “Don't think I haven't heard some of the crap you're spouting.”

Aziraphale opened his mouth to say he had only been sharing biblical stories when he rather saw the problem. He shut his mouth again. He took a deep breath. “Very well. I shall try to steer away from any...sacrificial themes, if you will stay clear of cruelty.”

Crawly made a face. “S'pose Hell doesn't sound any better coming out of my mouth then Heaven does coming out of yours.”

Aziraphale had wanted to re-order the boats, so Crawly's weren't so heavily loaded. Crawly shook their head and told him to be patient. Aziraphale hardly knew what that was supposed to mean. He was an angle. He was always patient. Thankfully, by the third day, the children had sorted themselves out, shuffling around and sharing what they had until they were more evenly balanced. 

Some arguments were solved before they started. (“Religious strictures don't matter unless they survive, angel.” “Agreed.”)

Then there was the matter of privacy. It was uncomfortable enough when Crawly passed on an assurance of it to the few desperate for such a thing, turning human eyes away so individuals could handle their bodies' budding needs in privacy. Aziraphale thought on it, and decided he didn't strictly disapprove, even if Heaven said otherwise. 

Then Crawly started tempting. “You know, he definitely is looking at you.” “Quite a lovely sight, isn't she?” They probably couldn't help themselves. After all, it wasn't as though Aziraphale had ceased performing blessings and miracles. Temptation was in Crawly's nature.

Aziraphale stared at one boat that was rocking rather more than the rest, lips pursed.

“Huh.” Next to him, Crawly scratched his head. “Wasn't expecting that.”

There were five humans old enough for their bodies to be ready for certain indulgences. It was partially their fault, for flushing the two girls with hormones to get them bearing milk. A groan sounded from the boat. The children nearest giggled.

“Really didn't mean for anything to happen. Just, you know, thought it might be nice. For them to know someone else appreciated them,” Crawly commented. “You'd think they would wait 'til we're back on land.”

“Crawly.” 

“Least their having fun.”

Aziraphale winced, his keen hearing picking up another soft moan. There was certainly plenty of laughter coming from that boat, too. And, well. If they absolutely must act on this sort of thing, he supposed it was best done in as much privacy as they could get. At least he could also make out plenty of “May I?” and “Is this alright?”

“Could be just, er, paired off. Or kissing. Kissing's a thing kids this age like to do!”

Aziraphale doubted it. He sighed in defeat. “Crawly.” The demon turned to look at him surprised. “Please cease talking about it.”

Crawly stared, mouth agape, for a moment. Apparently, they had had no sense that Aziraphale would not want to contemplate the situation at length. “Uh. Sure. Wine?”

Aziraphale pursed his lips but nodded grudgingly. The wine they could miracle up was unfortunate. Still, better than nothing. He gulped grimly at his cup, trying very hard to ignore the sounds coming from the boat. The sex boat. Oh dear.

Crawly cleared their throat. When Aziraphale looked over, their eyes were crinkled with amusement. “Any idea how much longer we'll be out here?”

“It can't be much longer, surely,” Aziraphale said, gladly changing the subject. “The ark would be better provisioned, but those humans will need foods that grow on the earth soon too.” He fretted with the sleeve of his robe. “I wish I knew more.”

Crawly hummed. “Pretty sure we're in the right spot. Mountains under there.” They waved down at the water. “That should come dry first, right?”

Aziraphale forced himself not to shrug. They had gone over this a dozen times, and this was their best plan. If...if Heaven were truly determined to wipe humanity out, Aziraphale would simply have to try something else. (He couldn't bring himself to think that God Herself was the one behind the floods.*)

* In fact, God had tried to warn thousands of humans all over the world about the coming natural disaster. Sadly, not many people took dreams about building ships as seriosuly as She had hoped.

“It should be,” Aziraphale said. There was a crack of thunder, and the rains went from a mist to heavy, ice cold droplets. Aziraphale stared into his cup and then emptied the sadly watery wine over the side of the boat. He ducked under the sail cloth. Crawly was already there, eyes narrowed, head cocked to one side. It had taken some experimentation to get this part right. After two carefully counted minutes, they sent a pulse of warmth and dryness through their charges. 

“Those girls better hope this doesn't last long,” Crawly said, jaw tight. “If the babes end up hungry, I'll go drag them out myself.”

This was such a turn-about to their earlier playfulness that Aziraphale stared. “My dear, are you alright?”

“Fine,” Crawly said. Then they shivered hard.

“Oh!” Aziraphale scooted closer. “Are you cold? I'm sorry, I didn't think.”

Crawly shivered again and crossed their arms. “Shouldn't be. Demons don't get cold.” They hugged themselves. “Just, spend a lot of time corporal. You know how it is.”

Aziraphale smiled knowingly. “I eat, you sleep. And get cold, apparently.” He hesitated, then held out an arm in invitation. “Here, would you like-”

Crawly threw themselves at Aziraphale. They burrowed into Aziraphale's side. Goodness, they were rather chilly. Aziraphale wordlessly turned up their own body temperature. Crawly made a quiet hissing sound, but based on the way they went limp, Aziraphale supposed it must be contentment not pain.

“Sssnake, too,” Crawly said after long moments.

“Mm,” Aziraphale said. “Poor dear. I do wish you had told me.” He rubbed a warm hand up and down Crawly's back, so the demon would know he wasn't angry. 

“Sssory,” Crawly breathed into his shoulder. “I'll try. Been- it's been awhile since anyone offered. Without, y'know, strings attached.”

Aziraphale tightened his arms protectively. He didn't like that at all. Crawly was here now. And it was...rather pleasant, having them so close like this. It made something complicated and hot twist in his gut. He wondered, with a surge of embarrassment, if Crawly required privacy of their own. To, ah, take care of their own bodily pleasures. Oh dear. And now he was picturing it, and he just knew he was blushing.

Crawly made a sleepy sound of amusement in his arms. “Timing'sss terrible, angel.”

“I beg your pardon?” Aziraphale hoped that Crawly wasn't referring to his errant thoughts.

“'m a demon, in case you forgot.” Crawly didn't lift their head from where they were tucked against Aziraphale's shoulder. They raised a hand and patted gently at Aziraphale's chest. “Can ssense, you know, sstuff.” They rubbed their cheek against Aziraphale. Aziraphale's heart pounded. “Don't fusss, angel. Let's jusst get the humans back to land, hmm?”

“Yes, of course,” Aziraphale said. He agonized for a long moment. It seemed Crawly had sensed his, er, feelings after all. “I am terribly sorry to have- intruded?”

Crawly sighed. With what seemed like a great deal of effort, they pulled their face up to Aziraphale's level. “Nothing to be sorry about.” They brushed a soft kiss against Aziraphale's cheek. They spoke their next words very close, cheeks brushing. “Just wait a bit.”

“Oh,” Aziraphale said. “I- yes, I see.” That had not helped with his heart pounding at all. In fact, now he had tingles everywhere. His mind wanted to explore the possibilities. Instead, he forced himself to take several deep breaths and think on nothing but the sound of the rain. Eventually, he settled, and Crawly curled back against him.

He hadn't felt this peaceful since before Eden.


	2. Flooded with Desire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smut. That's it, that's the chapter.

It seemed to take ages for all the children to settle. After months on boats, all their questions and worries surfaced once they were on solid ground. Crawly had burnt some of that off, thank goodness, with their brisk orders about clearing some dead wood away. There was a rough structure in place, everyone gathered around a lovely fire and fed. They would all bed down together tonight, at least.

Except for the two of them. Crawly had caught his hand and drawn him away from the fire. Back in the fallen trees that would grow into a forest once more, there was a small hut. Aziraphale didn't know when they had manged to make it. Crawly wordlessly gestured for Aziraphale to enter.

“Oh!” He spun in a circle. There wasn't much. A small table. A bottle of wine, clearly miracled even more so than the other contents. Their two glasses, saved from their boat. A bed.

A nice, big bed, with several blankets and pillows and space for two beings to spread their wings. He shivered, unable to look away. “My dear,” Aziraphale said, voice gone deep.

Crawly stepped up behind him, looping an arm around his waist. “You like it?”

Aziraphale imagined all the things they could do on that bed. “Very much.”

Crawly laughed softly, pleased. “Now, where were we?” They circled, one hand coming up to Aziraphale's shoulder, lips teasingly soft against Aziraphale's cheek. “I believe I was just here.” Aziraphale's breath sped up. “Your move, angel.”

Aziraphale held very still for several seconds. He had done this before, once or twice with humans. And he had witnessed a good deal more, both done well and done poorly. Despite how very much Crawly flustered him, he did have some idea of what he was doing. “May I kiss you?”

Now it was Crawly's turn to startle. Not a question the demon got asked much, then. “Yes.”

Aziraphale leaned up a bit. The first brush of lips together was soft and warm. Aziraphale brought a hand to cup Crawly's cheek. He lingered, mouth as soft as he could make it. He'd seen the way Crawly stared at his lips. Aziraphale let them be the one to deepen the kiss. Mm. Crawly tasted like wine. Like the idea of wine: rich and intoxicating. He stroked idly over Crawly's hair and got a surprised sound in response.

“Alright?” Aziraphale murmured, drawing back enough to hear the answer.

Crawly nodded. There was a high flush on their cheeks. It was utterly enrapturing. “I-” They seemed to change their mind about what they were going to say. “Can I, uh-” They made a gesture at Aziraphale's head.

“Yes,” Aziraphale said. “I want you to touch me.”

Some tension that was just beginning to form in Crawly's face loosened. 

Aziraphale frowned. “Can't you sense it?” That had certainly been the implication, before.

Crawly shrugged. “Wanting and deciding's not the same.”

“Mm. Well.” He tilted his head into Crawly's hands. “I'm deciding. Where else can I touch you?” Aziraphale caught the wicked smirk on Crawly's lips. “If you say “everywhere”,” Aziraphale warned, “I will find a ticklish spot.”

Crawly visibly considered the threat. “Leave my knees alone and you should be fine.” They snapped their fingers and got rid of their robe, leaving them in only their underthings.

Aziraphale tsked. “What a lost opportunity. I expect you to remove mine the human way, and to take proper advantage of it.” Crawly started to look uncertain, their eyebrows cinching together. Aziraphale drew them close. “I shall just have to work with what I have.” 

Crawly relaxed again. They had both hands in his hair when their lips met. Crawly scraped their teeth lightly against Aziraphale's lips. Aziraphale made an encouraging noise in his throat and settled in to touch Crawly in some of the many ways he had been imagining. He started slowly. Crawly's ribs, their lower back, their sides with a firm touch- he didn't really want to tickle. Nothing too sensitive yet. Long, broad strokes. Crawly became more adventurous, the thrust of his tongue getting into a rhythm. Aziraphale tucked it away, memorizing the exact beat Crawly moved at. His hands made their way up Crawly's back. 

Crawly jerked, breaking the kiss. “Fuck!” They panted a minute, Aziraphale staying carefully still, not quite certain what had caused that reaction. “Never had that happen before.” They shifted their shoulders. Aziraphale's hands moved a fraction of an inch. Crawly shuddered. “Sensitive.”

Aziraphale considered this, then the position of his hands. “Oh,” he said. He reached with just his fingertips and traced a line where Crawly's wings would emerge. “Here?”

“Ngk. Yeah.” Crawly's jaw dropped. It must be quite sensitive, then. They'd gone wordless. How very lovely!

Crawly shook themselves. “Is it- can I-?”

Aziraphale smiled. “Certainly. Anywhere you like.”

Crawly narrowed their eyes. They ran their hands over Aziraphale's back and right down to his bottom, getting a firm grip. Aziraphale thought it was meant partly as a rebuke, after he had warned Crawly not to give such blanket consent. He couldn't help being amused at the thought.

“Used to everything being fast, hm?”

Crawly smirked. “You did say...”

“I assure you, you needn't move your hands.” He paused. “That is, I should be rather put out if you don't move your hands at all.” Crawly smiled, pleased. “There is value to anticipation, though. We're not in a rush.” He lowered his voice deliberately. “We could take all night.”

It was extremely satisfying to watch the gold of Crawly's eyes overtake their pupils. Crawly skated their hands up a bit, then down, going to their knees. Their hands traced the length of Aziraphale's legs through the cloth of his robe.

“Anticipation.” Crawly leaned forward, their mouth somewhere very suggestive. “Shouldn't play with fire, angel,” they murmured. “Might get burned.”

“Goodness,” Aziraphale said, doing his best to look innocent, “you shall have to instruct me, so I don't make such a terrible error in the future.” 

Crawly snorted. Their hands circled Aziraphale's ankles, stroking lightly. They swayed forward, hypnotic like the snake whose shape lived in their skin. Lips brushed the cloth of Aziraphale's robe over his hip, close to the heavy effort stirring between his thighs. “Think you wanted this removed...manually. But what if I want to leave it on, hm?”

Crawly smirked up at him. “Lots of fun to be had.” Hands traced up his calves, digging into the muscles there. It felt, oh, enjoyable and startling all at once. Aziraphale instinctively flexed into the touch. This got him an amused look. Then Crawly's hands were higher, stroking the length of his flanks, arms buried up past the elbows in cloth. In aching increments they moved inward. Aziraphale shifted on his feet, legs going wider. Crawly watched him, sharp eyes picking out every twitch of movement. Aziraphale's heart raced. The muscles in his stomach quivered, holding him still. At last, Crawly made his way to the soft skin of Aziraphale's inner thighs, caressing tenderly. The bunched fabric only partially concealed what this did to Aziraphale. 

After what seemed like an age had passed, Crawly said, “For example, I can do this.”

With a deft flip, Crawly was under Aziraphale's robes, head and torso entirely concealed. There were, oh- there were lips on his thighs. Crawly's mouth drew hot, wet shapes there. Aziraphale made a high, sharp noise and wobbled on his feet. Steadying hands caught his hips and gripped. Aziraphale flailed. His hands. He wanted, needed to- “Please. Please, my dear, I need to see you.” He felt shockingly unsteady.

Crawly scrambled back out. Aziraphale put a hand in their hair, sighing in relief. Crawly knelt up high and nuzzled Aziraphale's belly, then stood. They kept Aziraphale's robes in their hands and ducked in for a kiss. “Alright, angel?”

Aziraphale curled his other arm around Crawly, trying to draw him close. 

“Nu-uh,” Crawly teased, “you wanted anticipation, remember? And I aim to please.”

Aziraphale flushed, part arousal and part embarrassment. He had rather taunted Crawly into this. Perhaps he shouldn't have been so proud. He could feel the color in his cheeks, feel the brush of his robe shifting over his prick. A little thrill went through him thinking that word. It wasn't an Effort anymore, just a human part to match the human corporation he wore. It felt effortless, in fact. He could hardly imagine not having such a part this close to Crawly. 

Crawly inched his robes up, uncovering Aziraphale's straining prick. “Ngh. Thick,” Crawly said. More blood rushed into his prick under Crawly's hungry gaze. “Gonna need that in me, at some point.” Aziraphale gasped. Yes, he wanted that.

Eventually, Crawly moved on. Aziraphale's robe was pushed up to his armpits while Crawly scattered kisses over the roundness of his belly. It was pleasurable, but it was all he could do not to pull Crawly down where his mouth would feel even better. By the hot look Crawly gave him, they knew. Teeth on his nipples were next, drawing a series of loud cries from him. Oh, surely this couldn't go on much longer. Crawly straightened back up again, but then circled around behind Aziraphale. The robe was pushed up and over his head.

Before Aziraphale could shake it onto the floor, Crawly said, “Hold this for me, would you, angel?” Aziraphale had two seconds of feeling like an idiot, arms awkwardly clutching a bundle of cloth in front of him, before Crawly's hands touched his back. Where his wings would emerge. It- it was like- like, fuck. Oh, that- but yes, oh, it was, it was like being fucked, nerves perfectly alight. And then Crawly put his mouth on him just there. Aziraphale jerked in his arms.

“Yes,” he said, everything golden. Crawly pressed close against the length of him, arms holding him, cock against his behind, mouth a line of fire against the place where his divine and human natures came together.

“Enough anticipation, angel?” Crawly asked, mouth lifting.

“Bed,” Aziraphale gasped. He would go out of his mind if he couldn't touch more of Crawly back, get rid of those undergarments. He finally let go of his robe. He hadn't bothered with undergarments. It felt glorious, to be naked and filled with desire. He took a stumbling step. Crawly followed closely, their legs almost tangling together. Aziraphale crawled onto the bed. There was a sharp gasp behind him. He let himself smile, since Crawly wouldn't be able to see it. Aziraphale had rather gotten the impression that Crawly appreciated this particular part of him. It was nice to be proven right. Aziraphale stretched slowly, arching his back.

Crawly made a strangled noise. “You utter tease.”

“Don't be ridiculous,” Aziraphale said. He shot his best come-hither look over his shoulder. “It's only teasing if I don't intend to follow through.”

And then, thank goodness, Crawly's control finally snapped. They leaped onto the bed, plastering themselves along Aziraphale's back. Aziraphale bucked his hips back in approval. Crawly moaned and thrust forward, a hungry imitation of what would come next. If only that bit of cloth wasn't in the way.

“Darling, please, get rid of that- I want to feel you, feel your skin, everywhere.”

Crawly swore and snapped their fingers. The cloth covering Crawly's cock disappeared. This time, Aziraphale didn't scold them. The pulsing heat, almost where he wanted it, was delicious.

“Angel.” Aziraphale could hear the strain in Crawly's voice. “Do you want- is this-”

Aziraphale sank onto his elbows and widened his legs. “I'd like you to fuck me, dearest.”

Hands flexed on Aziraphale's hips. “Ngk. Uh. Yeah. Right, I can do that.” Crawly clicked their fingers again. A moment later, they drew their hips back with a soft, reluctant moan. Aziraphale's cock throbbed in response. Two hands kneaded the plush skin of Aziraphale's arse, working slowly inward. At last, Crawly stroked a finger over his furl. 

“Aah.”

“Hm?”

Aziraphale didn't think he could widen his legs any more without becoming unstable. He tilted his hips back instead.

“Sssensitive?”

“Mm, yes,” Aziraphale agreed. He had always adored being touched like this. Well, except that one time with poor Shamus who hadn't quite known what he was doing. Based on the circling fingertip, Crawly very much knew what they were doing. Aziraphale relaxed into the caress. Crawly's fingers grew slick with oil. One long, clever finger slid into him. Aziraphale clenched around it, moaning. He wanted more.

“Sure you don't want more anticipation?” Crawly teased as one finger became two. “Could draw this out nice and long for you.”

Aziraphale squirmed impatiently. “I'd rather have something else nice and long,” he said. 

Crawly let out a surprised bark of laughter. “Well. If you please.”

“I think, ah.” Crawly added a third finger, and it was so close to what he he wanted. Aziraphale drew a deep breath. “Think it could please us both.” 

Crawly hissed in response, wordless. Aziraphale was out of words himself. Crawly's fingers picked up speed, screwing into him in a way that had tension running up his thighs. His prick jerked against his belly. Crawly curled their fingers just so. Aziraphale came up onto his hands for a second with a shout. Crawly held him there for three more sharp thrusts that arched his back. Aziraphale gasped as the fingers were withdrawn.

Crawly held, cock a hot pressure against Aziraphale's rim. “Yeah?”

“Yes, please,” Aziraphale gasped. “Ohhhhhh.” Crawly sank into him by inches. The pleasure of it rolled Aziraphale's eyes back into his head. He lost his balance and went down to his elbows again. He crossed his arms in front of him and buried his face in them. This was. Oh.

Crawly paused again, buried to the root. They ran their hands over Aziraphale's back. They probably meant to give Aziraphale time to adjust. He didn't want it. Concealing a smile in his arms, he tightened down on Crawly's cock.

“Fuck!” Nails dug into his hips. “Hungry, aren't you?” The words came out coated in honey, dripping with a needless temptation. Aziraphale clenched again in response. Crawly got the message and began to move. Aziraphale rewarded him for his efforts, letting out a loud stream of sighs and groans and bitten-off words. Crawly shifted the angle of their hips, and suddenly Aziraphale couldn't help but make noise. It was like Crawly was fucking it out of him. They were picking up speed, every snap of their hips drawing a corresponding groan from Aziraphale. He was painfully hard. If he thought he could get a hand on himself without tumbling them both over and stopping them, he would. 

Aziraphale was barely aware of a needy note entering the sounds he made before Crawly had a hand wrapped slickly around his prick. It was almost too much. He heard the sound he made then through a haze. Crawly hissed in response. Aziraphale shook. The oil mixed with where he was leaking onto Crawly's hand. And then Crawly must have done something impossible with their spine, because their hips never stopped moving, never stopped hitting that perfect spot inside Aziraphale, but their mouth was on his spine. Right between where they had kissed before. Aziraphale felt he would go mad with the anticipation of it. Crawly licked up one side, where his wing would emerge, and down the other. Aziraphale's head went back, balls drawing up tight. Crawly bit, and Aziraphale's vision went white. He came so hard it felt like a star being born. Behind him, Crawly had gone utterly silent, hips working furiously, hand bruisingly tight where they held Aziraphale up. They went still, and there was a splash of heat inside Aziraphale. A shiver of echoed pleasure ran down his spine. 

After a long moment, Crawly withdrew. Aziraphale tipped onto his side. He kept hold of Crawly's hand, using it to invite them to curl up together. Crawly inched close behind him, then paused.

“Uh.” They coughed, sounding embarrassed. There was a quick snap, then certain messes vanished. 

Aziraphale smiled in amusement. How charmingly thoughtful. “Thank you, my dear.”

“No problem.” Crawly wrapped around him from behind, arm loosely over Aziraphale's stomach. A warm forehead came to rest on his shoulder. Aziraphale thought Crawly might be blushing.

Aziraphale brought Crawly's hand to his mouth and kissed the palm. “Magnificent.”

He got a headbutt in return. That was alright. He could feel the waves of pleasure and contentment emanating from Crawly. They seemed to have come to an ideal arrangement. The details could be worked out later.


	3. Flooded with Subversiveness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The business end of their new arrangement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo, this is wildly anachronistic. Let's just ignore that this chapter, meant to be set roughly a century after the flood, looks an awful lot like medieval Europe, m'kay?
> 
> Also, I think it's pretty clear from context, but just in case: when Aziraphale says "harlot", he means it as a job description, not a slur.
> 
> And finally, if you want to skip the m/f smut, stop reading at "Aziraphale ran hot eyes over Crawly" and pick up again in the next chapter.

Aziraphale strode back in to the tavern where he and Crawly were staying with a grimace on his face. He sat down heavily. “You'll never believe what-”

“My lot contacted me,” Crawly interrupted. There was a hint of a snarl in their voice. “Just wandered by, oh, Crawly, here's your next assignment.”

Aziraphale stared. “That's exactly what happened to me! Gabriel descends from on high, no sense of privacy, no mention of that last assignment, and announces they've got a new one for me. I nearly told him off right then!”

Crawly made a face. “Best to see what they want. At least then we know, right?”

Aziraphale shrugged. “I'm supposed to go east, bless a particular town. Nothing terribly different from before, but- Crawly, I just can't! Who knows why Heaven wants it done, what will happen as a result?”

Crawly frowned. “You don't suppose they're coordinating, do you? My orders are to go east, too. Tempt some headman away from his wife.”

A chill prickled over his arms. Were Heaven and Hell working together? It was a disconcerting thought. What would that even mean, theologically? And, more to the point, what would that mean for himself and Crawly?

“Easy, angel.” Crawly reached over and squeezed his arm. “We'll figure it out.” Their eyes flickered rapidly, one of the signs Aziraphale had learned meant they were thinking quickly. “I think we should check it out. Go where they sent us, get a feel for what's really happening. Decide for ourselves if we should follow through.”

Aziraphale bit his lip. “And if we shouldn't?” He would not follow Heaven without thought, but he could not easily stand against them.

Crawly smiled, a wicked little thing. “Well, I'm sure you tried your best, but this terrible demon showed up and interfered at every turn. Horrible.”

Aziraphale blinked. Then, slowly, he started to smile. “How awful for you, if an angel of the Lord were to thwart you.”

“What can you do, though, that's just angels for you.”

Aziraphale laughed softly. “Clever demon.”

It ended up being needless on their first assignment. The town was in a bad way, suffering from drought and bandits, and could clearly use the help. Aziraphale was careful with his blessing, easing rather than overpowering. No one would be able to point to the town and say “that one's clearly special to Heaven” or anything like that. And as much as Aziraphale wished all marriages could be truly a sacrament, the headman's wife was bruised under her clothes. Crawly prowled through the available humans and picked a beauty with vicious ambitions. The two were shortly revealed and cast out, the wife taken back in by her loving family. 

The next assignment was worse. Aziraphale wished he could be surprised that it was Heaven's directive that made his skin crawl. He was supposed to do a public smiting, one that would inspire fear. The fear was supposed to be punishment for “those who have fallen away from the righteous path.” 

“Ugh,” Crawly said. 

Aziraphale looked around the town he was supposed to do the deed in, and couldn't help but agree. “Gabriel clearly didn't bother to examine the situation thoroughly.”

It was true that the people here boiled with anger. After fifty years suffering under a brutish overlord and then said overlord's son, Aziraphale fancied he might be just as wroth. There were regular raids that stripped anything extra, and left wives and daughters pregnant against their will. This was supposed to fill these people with God's love?

“Bet the overlord's dedicated themselves to Gabriel or Michael or summat,” Crawly said.

“That would quite explain it, yes,” Aziraphale said. It hung heavy on his heart, to notice such things. He worried about the millennia he had carried out Heaven's orders without thought. “How shall we- that is-”

“Hm.” Crawly kicked their foot in the dust. “Let's say I got here first, give me a week or so to integrate myself. Can't get right to it if there's a demon about. You'd have to go hunting first.”

Aziraphale considered this. “Do you suppose we could smite that awful overlord instead?”

Crawly's eyes lit up. “Ooo. Now you're getting it. I lay a trail back to him, you put the fear of God into him- talk up repentance for, oh, greed and lust, something like that.”

A smile tugged at Aziraphale's lips. Perhaps this wouldn't be as bad as he thought. 

“You can sell it to Heaven as thwarting a demon, who was clearly the root cause behind this pit of anger, and I tell Hell I got a human that Heaven favored smote.”

Aziraphale wiggled. “It sounds almost fun when you put it like that.”

Crawly smiled at him. “That's the ticket.” They glanced down at their body. “Er, think I might change for this.”

“Whatever you like, my dear.”

Crawly looked at him out of the corner of their eye. “Forms, I mean. You don't mind?”

Aziraphale blinked. “No, of course not.” Whyever should they mind?

Crawly waited a minute, then their body shimmered. They were a touch rounder like this. 

Aziraphale's hands twitched. “My dear, your hair.” Woman wore their hair differently, didn't they? He stepped closer. “Here, may I?”

Crawly tipped their head back into Aziraphale's hands. Aziraphale gently rearranged things, stopping to stroke the lovely length of it when he was done. “There.”

Crawly leaned back into him. “Wasn't sure if you, you know. Er. Forms. The, ah-” They made a crude gesture.

Aziraphale wound an arm around Crawly, turning them in to his embrace. “Dearest.” He pressed a soft, long kiss to Crawly's lips. “It's you I desire, not some particular version of you.” There was a rather enchanting blush high on their cheeks. He brushed a kiss there as well. “Exquisite.”

“Tease,” Crawly said. “You're not going to do anything. Gonna get me all worked up and then say it's time to take care of the job.”

Aziraphale chuckled and stepped back. “I promise to explore thoroughly later.”

Crawly let out an annoyed huff that did nothing to hide how pleased they were. They settled their robe around themselves and turned toward the town. “Make a camp, angel. This will take a bit.”

Their plan worked fantastically well. Crawly spent a week making friends. They found the humans most likely to cause trouble and worked smaller mischief to occupy them. By the time Aziraphale officially arrived and tucked himself into the inn, Crawly had connected a number of human women that were doing the work to soothe the town's temper. Crawly had announced themselves as a midwife, and readily tended to the other women. Several mysteriously lost undesired children from the womb. 

Meanwhile, food stores increased miraculously by the time dinner rolled around. By sundown of the second day, where Aziraphale wandered around town “looking” for the source of the demonic aura he could sense, several buildings had become less drafty or even expanded subtly in size. The week's end saw a small group of people banding together to make hiding places for their suddenly increased stores, ones that would never be found by outsiders. Aziraphale “heard word” of a stranger who had recently departed for the nearby manor and left on Crawly's tail.

Aziraphale nearly choked on his tongue when he saw the outfit Crawly chose for their debut. The lord of the manor had clearly installed Crawly as his mistress. They were dressed in a harlot's garb. Aziraphale struggled to tear his eyes from their bosom. He was terribly glad he had not announced himself as a man of the cloth- that would have caused all sorts of extra questions. He still got an elbow to the rib after a moment.

“Careful,” said the fellow next to him. “Lord Galf gets a bit irritable-like if he catches anyone eying up his woman.”

“I beg pardon, then,” Aziraphale said. “They are quite stunning.”

He got a companionable chuckle. “She's that, right enough. Got here a few- uh.” His eyes went blank, and Aziraphale could smell Crawly's spell going to work. He knew Crawly was only three days ahead of him or so. “Guess I don't rightly know how long she's been here. Seems like forever. Anyway, you can see how Lord Galf favors her.”

Aziraphale didn't know that he would call it “favor.” Lord Galf had arranged the largest room in his manor as a sort of hall, with two tables. One table housed Aziraphale and all the other unimportant folks- workers and travelers, peddlers, and those who had displeased him. The other, smaller, table held Lord Galf, his lady wife and child, master of arms, a priest that reeked of corruption, and Crawly. The wife had retired early, taking her son with her. Lord Galf had one hand under the table, where Crawly was settled close. Aziraphale was having trouble restraining the urge to smite him right now.

In fact...

Aziraphale cast his senses out. Yes, the hall was clear of children. He felt quite strongly that children shouldn't be exposed to smiting. A quick nudge sent the two innocents still present away. Crawly looked up sharply, as though they hadn't been perfectly aware of Aziraphale's presence before that little miracle. Aziraphale felt them cause something to go wrong in the kitchen, and soon even the younger maid and page had been called away.

Aziraphale swung himself free from the bench and paced several steps toward the other table. He began to glow with holy light.

“DEMON!” Aziraphale bellowed. The hall fell silent. “How dare you invade this place!”

Crawly turned wide eyes to Lord Galf. “I don't know what he's talking about. You'll protect me, won't you?”

Lord Galf looked as if thinking was painful. He stared between Aziraphale and Crawly. Time to make it more dramatic. Aziraphale manifested his wings, mantling them high so he wouldn't knock anyone over.

“Do you think I would not know you in this form?” Aziraphale frowned mightily. “Reveal yourself!”

Crawly smiled wickedly. “Why, it's an angel.” Humanity slid from them. Scales crept over their bare shoulders and their forked tongue flicked out. “How quaint. Bit late to the game, aren't you?”

Aziraphale raised his hand, light shining from it. Before he could complete the farce, Crawly disappeared in a flash of dark smoke, their hissing laugh all that remained to human eyes. Aziraphale saw them lean casually against the wall across the room, presumably hidden from others.

“You!” Aziraphale turned his furious gaze to Lord Galf. “You have let the fiend escape!”

Lord Galf trembled. “Forgive me.”

Aziraphale went stern, still glowing at a brightness almost painful to human eyes. “For what? Think carefully. Our Creator knows all things. I am God's hands in this.* I know all your sins, everything you have let this demon tempt you to. Every sin of lust and greed and wrath you have led your people to.”

* God smiled rather grimly. Indeed.

Aziraphale reached out then, with holy power, and lanced fear through Lord Galf's heart, and the heart of every person who had followed him on his raids. It did not begin to balance the scales.

“Please,” Lord Galf begged, “please, let me repent.”

Aziraphale paused, considering. He let his light dim slightly. “If you are truly repentant...”

“I am!” 

Aziraphale had no idea how long the man's faith would last. He had to take this chance, though, for all the people that had been hurt. “Then we have much to discuss.”

It was a frankly tedious night. Aziraphale spoke long into it with Lord Galf, chastising and encouraging in turn. The man unburdened his fears and woes, and Aziraphale left certain that he would at least rein in his men for a few years. Aziraphale might have implied he would be watching, and would be less forgiving of any further trespasses.

At dawn, he found Crawly, and they made their way into the woods. They didn't get far before Crawly stopped, shoulders twitching. 

“Ugh, angel, I've got to change. I am not tramping about in this dress.”

Aziraphale ran hot eyes over Crawly. Then, moving forcefully but slow enough that Crawly could raise objections, he backed them into a tree. “It does seem impractical. Allow me to help.”

Aziraphale bent his head to kiss Crawly. He ran a hand down their throat and the vee of their dress. There was a slight tingle as he slipped his hand sideways to cup their breast. He lifted his head in confusion.

Crawly moaned. “Ssspelled to distract anyone wanting a feel. Let me-”

“No.” Aziraphale had an idea. He brought his hands up, getting a good grip on the fabric. He flexed, and the dress began to tear. He kept his eyes on Crawly, wanting to be certain. Crawly's tongue flicked out. Their eyes widened. Aziraphale grinned. He had grown to know Crawly quite well in the years they had spent together since the Flood. That was lust, not fear.

“Probably not supposed to find your smity face so sexy,” Crawly said, voice curling out like smoke warning of a fire. “Left me all restless.”

Aziraphale chuckled. “I've been thinking of you in that dress all night, too.” A quick jerk tore the dress the rest of the way open. Crawly shook it from their arms and stood naked. Aziraphale pressed them back against the tree. He bent his head again, and sank into a hungry, urgent kiss. He was hard in his trousers. Crawly wound themselves around him, answering heat with heat.

“Fuck,” Crawly said when they finally broke from kissing. Aziraphale could feel their wet heat pressed against him. He cupped their breasts, bringing his mouth to them. Crawly's fingers dug into his shoulders. “Fuck!”

With one hand, Aziraphale unfastened his trousers and pushed them down his thighs. They both made a sound when his cock pressed against Crawly. It was thrilling, to be clothed while Crawly writhed naked against him. The need he had been suppressing all night thundered through him now.

“Catch,” Crawly demanded. They jumped and wound their legs tight around Aziraphale. Aziraphale groaned and gripped their arse. In a single plunge, he was in Crawly, surrounded by the clench of their cunt. “Yes!”

Shaking, Aziraphale dropped a hand in between them. His thumb circled the sweet spot above where they were joined. Crawly bit off a series of unvoiced words. Oh, this was- it was going to be-

Crawly shouted and stiffened, coming in a wave around him. Aziraphale followed, pulsing out his seed. With unsteady motions, he set Crawly down, conjuring a blanket for them to rest on. He slid out of them and held them close.

“Well,” Crawly said when they had both caught their breaths. They laughed. “Perhaps I'll have to wear dresses more often!”


	4. Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale responds rather differently to attempts to bully him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To make up for missing a week, here's the last 2 chapters!

Aziraphale read over the Heaven-sent note with raised eyebrows. “Unusual miracle use”, hm? They didn't have the courtesy to speak with him personally, or even send a proper letter. He could hardly describe the terse missive as such. He sniffed and tossed it into the fire. It was satisfying to watch it burn.

Aziraphale considered the miracles he had used in the last month. Warmth, healing, a few protections and blessings on food. And, well. The sex miracles. He giggled to himself. Nothing unusual there, or about any of it, really.

Perhaps he was thinking too recently. It was Heaven, after all. A month would be nothing to them. They might consider up to, oh, the last decade perhaps, as recent. Humming to himself, Aziraphale reached for a tablet and stylus. Using his personal shorthand, he made a list. Miracles divided into two neat columns. Ah. His brow furrowed, and he put the stylus down with a snort.

Was Heaven reprimanding him for adding miracles to preserve written knowledge to his repertoire? It was the only thing he could think of that might match the vaguely worded message. Did they not understand how critical writing was in helping human societies to flourish?* Surely, that work was only to the good. 

* It took several more centuries and some prodding by Crawly before Aziraphale sat again with story-tellers and listened to the amazing techniques they had for preserving and passing on knowledge. He still preferred the written word, but he would never again describe it as a marker of human progress.

Aziraphale narrowed his eyes in thought. Come to think of it, he wasn't entirely certain that Heaven was able to distinguish what miracles he was doing at all. Surely someone would have mentioned that removal of semen was not a seemly miracle if that were the case? Was it possible Heaven was only able to detect a new type of miracle? If that were true, he might tell them anything he pleased about his work.

Aziraphale shook his head. Long association with Crawly had changed the way he thought. No need to be overly duplicitous. He would simply ignore the note for now. If it arose again in the future, he would tell them that humanity continued to change at a much more rapid pace than Heaven and he would, naturally, need new types of miracles quite frequently to aid and protect them. 

It took nearly another century for Heaven to send down a second reprimand, this time all but ordering him to cease. Aziraphale responded with a polite note of his own. He reported on several innovations of the last century, proceeded on to theories of the rate of change among different human populations, and finally politely announced that new miracles were a necessity for his post. All in all, the letter was a proper ten pages. 

The reprimands grew less frequent after that. Once or twice a millennia, Aziraphale would receive a short letter or be asked to return to Heaven for an in-person report. He thought this showed a proper amount of respect for his charges. He spoke or wrote at great length about every wondrous idea humans came up with, and sorrowed at their evils. Heaven liked to tell him how to handle his job. Since they spent no time longer than a visitation on Earth, Aziraphale felt free to ignore them.

“Tell them you'll take it under consideration,” Crawly had drawled once, “or that it's a fascinating idea. Not lying, but not saying you'll do it either. Less arguments, leave 'em feeling good about themselves. Right?”

“Hm.” Aziraphale had stroked a hand down Crawly's naked back and agreed.

It was the late eighteenth century when Gabriel paid a rather tone deaf visit.

“Now they don't just want to limit the type of miracles I do,” Aziraphale complained, “they want me to use fewer miracles. Fewer!”

Crowley rolled his eyes. “Morons.”

“Rather! It's not as though there's some shortage. Gabriel actually told me that my miracle use is limiting what other can do.”

“Not like we need more smiting down here,” Crowley observed. “Seems like that's all your lot does in the last few centuries. That and visions. Visions don't take much, do they?”

“No, they don't.” Aziraphale huffed and leaned back in his chair. “Which I suppose means that if I am somehow “using up” miracles, I am responsible for less smiting.”

Crowley smirked. They were sprawled over a couch, one arm draped across their eyes. “Wonder if I can do that with Hell? Use so much energy they can't get into their sort of trouble on Earth?”

Aziraphale's eyes narrowed inconsideration. “Hmmm.”

Crowley moved their arm. “I know that “hm.” What are you up to now, angel?”

Aziraphale gave him a prissy smile. “I'm sure I don't know what you mean, my dear.” He got a raised eyebrow for that. “I am simply contemplating the appropriate use of miracles.”

“Ap- angel!” Crowley grinned and flipped onto their stomach, propping themselves up on their elbows. “You're going to use even more miracles, aren't you?”

Aziraphale's smile widened. “Well, one must keep up with the humans. I asked Gabriel how many humans he thought there were on Earth. Do you know what he said?” 

Crowley made a face that suggested any answer Gabriel gave would have to be idiotic.

“Hundreds,” Aziraphale said flatly. “He seemed to be under the impression that every plague wiped out most of them, as though all the peoples of the world lived in one large band. He was entirely astonished when I told him there were several million humans currently. He tried to tell me I must have my numbers wrong.”

Crowley rolled their eyes. “What, he thinks you just make up those reports? It's more than six million right now!”

“I am tempted to send up census numbers yearly,” Aziraphale said, “straight to Gabriel's desk.”

“So.” Crowley wiggled their fingers. “Miracles? We should do a couple of big ones.”

“I know you like your sleep, darling, but I feel a surge of alertness coming on.”

Crowley laughed. “No, I'll stay up to watch this.”

The next several months were extremely heartening. By now, they worked together as smoothly as a hand in a glove. Healing, protection and inspiration were gifted to the poor and hurting. The rich and violent received curses of illness, surprise attacks, and foggy minds whenever they tried to plan for more cruelties. Tensions evaporated before they could devolve, unexpected love matches sealed alliances, supply lines to prolong wars broke up, and in many places starvation ended up being only hunger. Aziraphale, not for the first time, thought Crowley looked beautiful when they were lit up with their cleverness. 

It was, sadly, not Gabriel's last completely off-base visit. He found he disliked Gabriel and Sandalphon being in his bookshop even more than he disliked visits in general. Especially when they commented on the stench of evil.

“That would be the demon,” Aziraphale said.

Gabriel reared back. “You let a demon in here?”

“Yes, of course.” Really, Aziraphale marveled that it had taken this long. Perhaps Gabriel had simply assumed any demon scent the other times were demons passing through? “I have found the demons posted to Earth to be the easiest to reach, but of course that may simply be my position.”

“Reach for what?” Sandalphon sniffed again. “Doesn't smell like smiting.”

Aziraphale didn't have to fake his scandalized look. “Goodness, no! Why, I haven't done a smiting since God's new orders.” He got blank looks in reaction. “Jesus of Nazareth? The Christ Child? He had quite a lot to say on our Creator's behalf. Among other messages, we are commanded to love our enemies.”

Aziraphale managed not to laugh at their horrified looks. “You...love a demon.”

Aziraphale held eye contact. “I am doing my best to bring the grace of God's love to even the darkest of souls.”

The visit got worse from there. Neither of them were able to argue with God's word (not least because they were only passingly familiar with Jesus's preaching), but they were both completely opposed to showing so much as a drop of compassion for a demon. They moved on to trying to pick at Aziraphale for other seeming short-comings.

Aziraphale caught the fist aimed at his stomach easily. “I assure you,” he said frostily, “my corporation is in fighting form. You seem to have some misunderstanding of the way these things work on Earth.” He squeezed Sandalphon's fist in his open hand, enough to make it clear he could do damage if he wanted. Then he let go. 

“Right.” Gabriel coughed. “Well, this has been enlightening and all, but I'm afraid we have places to go, people to see. You know how it is.”

When Aziraphale recounted the tale to Crowley later that night, they laughed themselves breathless. “You really said you were trying to reach me with God's love?”

Aziraphale lounged back, a content smile on his face. “They may have come away with the idea that I preached to you.” Crowley cackled. “I am quite sure She doesn't mind how I express my love.”

“With your tongue?”

“Certainly, dearest.”

This got another round of laughter. Crowley ended up draped over his chest. A hand caressed over his broad belly. “I like your gut,” Crowley said.

“I know.” And he did. Though. “Perhaps a demonstration?”

Crowley giggled. It was a better end to a trying day.


	5. Flooded with Determination

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They weren't going to sit this one out. And they had humanity on their side.

Aziraphale stared grimly at Crowley. Crowley stared back. “Six thousand years. And five thousand of it together. I suppose it's...not a bad run.”

Crowley narrowed their eyes. “Don't go giving up now, angel.”

Aziraphale opened his mouth, then shut it again. “But, my dear, what are we to do? It's impossible odds: all the Hosts of Heaven and Hell against the two of us.”

Crowley smiled with a dark edge. “Not really their territory, is it? Earth, I mean. It's ours. We've been assigned here. We're the only ones who know it, know the people and the land and the history.”

Something sparked in Aziraphale. “Yes,” he said slowly, “that's quite true. You think...” He trailed off, uncertain.

Crowley shifted restlessly. “I'm saying. If they're here, they're in our realm of influence, so to speak. Might be things we can do.” They sat up straight, tongue flickering out and eyes glowing with rage. “I'll be fucked if I sit here doing nothing.”

Aziraphale straightened in response. He nodded decisively. “You are right, of course. We can't simply let them destroy Earth.”

Twelve years both dragged and sped by. After several heated arguments, they settled the antichrist with a perfectly nice couple in a charming town. Mr. and Mrs. Young became convinced they had known Crowley and Aziraphale for ages, and treated them like honorary uncles when they came to visit. Adam (Crowley rolled his eyes) certainly shared his father's charisma. Luckily, he hardly needed any help at all to love the world and the people in it. 

It was Crowley who ensured the other boy had a nanny they approved of, since the poor kid would have been otherwise very unhappy. Warlock's nanny loved him fiercely, and smoothly protected her charge from his parents' inconsistent attentions. She also taught him that actions mattered more than words and had plenty to say about power and it uses. It was here that Crowley and Aziraphale convinced their respective sides that the real antichrist lay, and Warlock that they reported on.

Meanwhile, they saw to the defense of the Earth. Tirelessly, they found every occultist, witch, lay healer, and Satanist. They appeared in dreams and spoke to small groups. They shared rare manuscripts. Country by country, then continent by continent, they laid magical defenses. Ritual blades took on an extra sheen in their wake, suddenly able to fight on a level beyond the physical plane. Phone numbers were exchanged.

And whispers of a conspiracy spread. Twelve years, then ten. Five years. Three years. It was almost time. Any day now, outsiders would invade. World leaders were in their pockets, ready to send off nukes and destroy earth. Be vigilant. Stay ready.

It all boiled down to this: on the day the Apocalypse was set to take place, Crowley dialed a single number and said, “It's happening.” Around the world, millions of people looked up to the sky or down to the cracks in the earth and said, “It's happening.” 

Crowley and Aziraphale stepped into a circle. Not a Heavenly one, nor a Hellish one, but one that Aziraphale had come up with himself. Earthly, with all the love and protective rage they felt for the Earth carved into it. It gleamed with power. In unison, they began to chant. They felt it as one by one, others joined in, speaking words of power to defend the earth. A shield, woven of humanity and all they were capable of, blossomed into place. 

Sharing a burning look, Aziraphale let Crowley lead him to the Bentley. Crowley snarled when they saw the M25 lit up with black fire. “Use my own inventions against me, will they? I don't think so.”

Crowley didn't attempt to talk on the drive to the airbase. Aziraphale was glad, focused inward. He had not felt so much like a warrior in a long time. The pretense that he would go along with Heaven's orders wafted away first, barely there after millennia of making his own way. Then the skin of the bookseller, the front he wore for humanity. He drew his intelligence close to him, honed the edge of his love and certainty. 

Beside him, Crowley began to smolder with dark power. They were every bit as angry as him. Crowley was less a warrior, generally preferring to change the odds than battle outright. Which was fine, because they had no intention in engaging in a battle. Two beings against millions would have failed. Crowley would muster their power to defend humanity in their own way.

As they drew near their destination, Aziraphale sensed the first test of the shield. A moment later, several low-powered beings tried to cross the barrier into Earth and failed. The shield strengthened in the wake of their attempts. 

Crowley pulled up in a screech of tires. Across the tarmac, two particularly important humans snuck into place. Aziraphale sent a last, quiet blessing their way. Crowley took out their phone and sent a second message, this time just a text that would look like nonsense to anyone who read it. A hacker in Japan whose grandparents had died of radiation poisoning sat up, mouth a firm line, and began typing like their life depended on it. There would be no nuclear war on their watch.

Aziraphale shivered at the unpleasant sensation of power slicing through their shields. Gabriel and Beelzebub, just as they had predicted. Crowley sauntered up, golden eyes burning, and Aziraphale matched them stride for stride.

“Alright, kid?”

Adam tossed his head, shaking blond hair out of his eyes. “Alright, Crowley. You were right, though, they're both rude.” He turned his attention back to Gabriel and Beelzebub. “Didn't your mum teach you manners?”

Crowley smirked, watching that barb hit. Gabriel flustered. “Ah- uh. That is to say- Aziraphale!” Gabriel frowned. “Aziraphale, what are you doing here? You were ordered back to Heaven.”

Aziraphale met Gabriel's eyes calmly. “The last orders I received were to aid and protect humanity.”

“You never got-”

“I follow my Mother's orders, Gabriel.” Aziraphale waited a beat for that to sink in. “Not yours.” Before Gabriel could yell, he continued. “Speaking of orders- this Plan. The Great Plan, I am given to understand?”

“That's what they were going on about,” Adam said.

“Are you quite certain the Great Plan and the Ineffable one are the same? Is this-” Aziraphale swept his eyes upward, silently indicating where angels ought to be appearing, “our Mother's plan? Or yours?”

“And Lucifer's,” Crowley added. “Mustn't forget him.”

His serpent had excellent timing. Gabriel and Beelzebub cast distrustful looks at each other.

“I don't like you,” Adam declared suddenly. He tipped his chin at the archangel and duke. “I like most people, but not you. I think you should go.”

The pressure in the air built. Gabriel looked up uneasily. Aziraphale hoped he was noticing how much stronger the resistance he had pushed through was now. Every attempt to push through would strengthen the shield more. Beelzebub seemed to be coming to a conclusion faster than Gabriel. 

“I muzzt conzzzzult further,” they said, and disappeared. 

Gabriel turned on Aziraphale, enraged. “Traitor,” he hissed.

Unmoved, Aziraphale looked back. “Who has betrayed our Mother's will, Gabriel? I do not think it is me.”

“Scurry off, now,” Crowley said. “You don't want to be caught on the wrong side.”

An enormous wave of power crested up from Below. Gabriel took off with a squawk. Adam braced himself, a mulish look on his face.

His confrontation with Satan was everything Crowley could have desired. Aziraphale had a hard time tearing his attention away from the confrontation happening, but even he could see Crowley's delight. “You're not my dad,” and “Real dads don't ignore you.” The kid loved Earth as much as they did, but Adam was also rooted in the every day. His friends took on great powers and cast them down, one by one. Crowley looked as though he was going to burst when Adam said, “I think people ought to rule themselves.”

Finally, it was all over. Crowley treated the kids to ice cream, and then Aziraphale to dinner at the Ritz. In between, Aziraphale listened to them make a series of calls, confirming that the worst was over and everyone could stand down. With any luck, it would take humans a long time to unscramble the codes on their nuclear devices and they would consider the benefits of leaving well enough alone. Heaven and Hell would both have a lot of trouble interfering further. The effect of millions of beings trying to pass into Earth had left the shield Aziraphale and Crowley had first dreamed of stronger than they could have imagined.

Crowley was even looser than normal, looking like they might slither right off their seat. They had made a stop at the bookshop in between. Their spot of privacy had been fantastic, and Aziraphale was looking forward to more of the same. He smiled at Crowley and ate his dessert contentedly. 

Crowley raised his wine glass in a toast. “To the world, angel,” they said.

“And to an eternity together in it,” Aziraphale responded.

They clinked glasses. All was well.

**Author's Note:**

> This story sprang from me wondering what the Good Omens equivalent of Harry Potter being sorted into Slytherin would be. What would happen if a significant, early canon event went quite differently? Here is my attempt to answer that question.


End file.
